


Toxic

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Aid is held prisoner, but gets help from an unexpected person.</p><p>First Aid, Blast Off, mentions of others / dark, angst, mentions of rape</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toxic

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** dark, angst, mentions of rape  
>  **Continuity:** G1  
>  **Characters:** First Aid, Blast Off, mentions of others  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Summary:** First Aid is held prisoner, but gets help from an unexpected person.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty
> 
>  **Note:** Written for the prompt Toxic by Ucalegonne (on twitter)

First Aid pressed himself into the corner of the bleak room. It was dark, only the energy shield around the door glimmered visibly. A shield that First Aid couldn’t break through – he had tried.

In the room were only a chair, a table, and a berth. But he couldn’t stand being on the berth, not since Brawl had _visited_ him.

And despite this, and the futility this room, First Aid would still rather be in here than somewhere else in the Combaticon base.

He once had been stuck in Onslaught’s office, chained to the couch; the gestalt leader had used him as reward for his troops. Brawl, Swindle and Vortex had argued who could _have_ him before.

Except for the shuttle who hadn’t been there, all of them had used First Aid in one way or the other in the end. And the worst time had been with Vortex.

The memory alone made First Aid shudder, his intakes hitch and desperation spread until it filled his every thought. The medic didn’t know what the heliformer had done to him, what he’d put in his energon, but First Aid hadn’t been able to think any more. He’d seen things, heard things, imagined things. He’d been sure it’d been Blades who held him, touched him, kissed him. 

It hadn’t been his team mate. When the clouds of pleasure and the dizziness of the drug had vanished, there had been grey streaks on his frame, not the red and white ones he’d liked to have seen.

And the other’s paint was still there.

First Aid couldn’t scrub it off.

A sudden silence dragged First Aid out of his paralysed state of dread and alertness set in. The buzzing energy shield of the door was gone, and it made the medic tense.

Someone was coming in, First Aid knew and feared it.

The door opened with a creaking noise, and revealed the dark silhouette of a huge mech. He seemed to be even bigger than the Combaticon commander.

“Leave,” a sophisticated voice said in a blank, emotionless tone.

First Aid could only stare; he noticed the air shimmering off the other’s plating, and he wondered briefly if the shuttleformer had just come back from space.

“Get up, and leave!” An annoyed undertone entered the voice, and there was a click of an engine being held in the current setting so as not to rev.

Now, the words registered, and First Aid’s optics widened, scared this would be Blast Off’s turn. “What?” he choked out.

“You aren’t good for my team. Leave. And don’t make me repeat it again.”

There was something about the shuttle that First Aid couldn’t read, or explain, and he didn’t dare ask. He was too confused to question if Blast Off would get in trouble, or if this was some sort of trap or test.

It took the medic another klik to decide what to do, and eventually started to move after the strong engine rumbled. In the almost empty room, the noise echoed through to First Aid, and its vibrations seemed almost solid, as though he’d be able to touch the sound.

On unsteady feet, First Aid walked uncertainly towards the huge mech that stood in the door. He just wanted to stop in front of him when the shuttleformer stepped aside. First Aid was so close now, he felt the warmth radiating of the purple-brown frame, and knew this was from a recent re-entry.

“Follow me,” the shuttle said, and turned, walking quickly through the hallways and corridors that First Aid had seen before, but still couldn’t place. For him, it was a labyrinth.

They reached the exit, where Blast Off came to a halt. “I will know if you open a comm link within a 300 miles radius. You better leave this area before you call for help.”

Realising the communication jammer was disabled, First Aid glanced up the mech. His voice was staticky when he spoke. Maybe this was some sort of game? “Why are you doing this?”

A huff, and the shuttle shook his head. “I already said: you’re no good for my team. And now leave, or I’ll decide for option two, which will be deadly for you.”

The medic shivered, not doubting the words. He transformed on the second try, and drove off.

When he was 376 miles away from where he took off, he sent a distress call to his team.

First Aid couldn’t believe he’d survived.


End file.
